‘Well, the woman was angry, and she married that fellow out of pique.’
‘Out of pique?’
‘I repeat it. It was a pure case of temper. I would not ask her to sing. I even found fault with the way she gave the rebel ballad. I told her there was an old lady—Americanly speaking—at the corner of College Green, who enunciated the words better, and then I sat down to whist, and would not even vouchsafe a glance in return for those looks of alternate rage or languishment she threw across the table. She was frantic. I saw it. There was nothing she wouldn’t have done. I vow she’d have married even you at that moment. And with all that, she’d not have done it if she’d been “clean-bred.” Come, come, don’t flare up, and look as if you’d strike me. On the mother’s side she was a Kearney, and all the blood of loyalty in her veins; but there must have been something wrong with the Prince of Delos. Dido was very angry, but her breeding saved her; she didn’t take a head-centre because she quarrelled with Æneas.’
‘You are, without exception, the most conceited—’
‘No, not ass—don’t say ass, for I’m nothing of the kind. Conceited, if you like, or rather if your natural politeness insists on saying it, and cannot distinguish between the vanity of a puppy and the self-consciousness of real power; but come, tell me of something pleasanter than all this personal discussion—how did mademoiselle convey her tidings? have you seen her note? was it “transport”? was it high-pitched, or apologetic?’
‘Kate read it to me, and I thought it reasonable enough. She had done a daring thing, and she knew it; she hoped the best, and in any case she was not faint-hearted.’
‘Any mention of me?’
‘Not a word—your name does not occur.’
‘I thought not; she had not pluck for that. Poor girl, the blow is heavier than I meant it.’
‘She speaks of Walpole; she incloses a few lines to him, and tells my sister where she will find a small packet of trinkets and such like he had given her.’